Dancin' in the Streets
by theicemenace
Summary: Clint is hallucinating during surgery. Or is he? A tag to Age of Ultron.


To watch us dance is to hear our hearts speak. ~ Hopi Indian Saying

 **Avengers**

 **Age of Ultron Tag**

 **Dancin' in the Streets**

Lying across several seats, Clint waved away the medic trying to check his wounds. Shot twice in under a week. A new record even for him. He briefly closed his eyes, fatigue and a sense of loss rolling around in his head. Looking down at the body on the floor of the transport, he saw that impertinent grin and cocky walk.

Right now, Clint would give almost anything to hear the whoosh that preceded Quicksilver saying, "What? You didn't see that coming?"

And though Quicksilver had annoyed and frustrated him, had even caused him to get shot the first time, he'd still taken a shine to him and his sister. They weren't bad kids. Just misguided, told what they wanted to hear by those who didn't have their best interests at heart. One had used them to cause havoc, and the other had given them the means to exact their twisted sense of revenge. But the joke was on Ultron and von Struker because they were dead while the ones they'd wanted to kill-the Avengers and the human race-were still alive.

 _Barely_ , Clint thought as the pain from his new wound increased when the transport lifted off. He touched the area and looked at his hand covered in blood. A few minutes later, the transport landed on the deck of the helicarrier with a hard thump, but Clint was beyond feeling it because he'd passed out enroute.

~~O~~

Anyone who wasn't needed to operate the helicarrier had been directed to assist with the evacuation of Sokovia. Doctors, nurses, medics, and anyone who had even first aid skills swarmed the deck, triaging the injuries, and leading the uninjured deep into the boat to relative safety.

Unsure where she could help the most, Wanda came into the gym, her eyes wide and filled with a sadness that would take a long time to ease, if ever. When the other half of your heart dies, you die a little yourself.

She stepped out of the way when two men came through carrying Hawkeye on a stretcher. Not as badly injured as the others, his wound had been dressed with a pressure bandage, and he was put in the corner of gym away from the make-shift clinic. In still another part of the room, several families, and children who had been separated from their parents, huddled together for comfort. The younger children, confused about what happened, played with the balls and mats.

Moving to Hawkeye's side, Wanda looked down at his unconscious form. Here, he was vulnerable, unable to defend himself. Pietro had died saving his life, and she wanted to hate him for living when her twin brother had not. It would take less effort to rip out his heart than it did to do the same to Ultron's original form.

But when she'd become separated from Pietro, and hiding with Hawkeye, nearly hysterical after discovering Ultron's true objective, the destruction of all humans, the Avenger had calmed her so she could function as part of the team. His voice had the soothing tones of a father easing the fears of a child awakened from a nightmare, all the while hiding his own. But his fear wasn't just for himself, his team or even for people of Sokovia.

Kneeling next to him, Wanda sent a neuro-electric wave into Hawkeye's mind so she could see what he feared most. Three smiling faces floated through the link: A woman, obviously with child, a boy of eight, and a girl of five. His family. _They_ were what motivated him above all else. A desire to leave them a world that was safe for all.

She started to back out before she saw more when another face teased at her. The woman held the hands of a small boy as they danced. Curious, Wanda moved closer, discovering that the woman was Hawkeye's mother. One more small push and she identified one of his greatest desires. She had been taken from him so abruptly that he hadn't had a chance to say good-bye. The small boy was himself, and he yearned to dance with his mother one more time.

Wanda sent the wave again, slightly altered, then sat down beside him, holding his hand between both of hers, and closed her eyes.

~~O~~

Clint opened his eyes, disoriented for a moment. The last thing he remembered was Quicksilver's body lying on the floor of the transport, riddled with bullet holes. And then he was here. Wherever _here_ was.

The fog dissipated and his surroundings slowly became clear. He heard a radio playing a familiar song, though he hadn't heard it in some time, the clattering of dishes as they were washed and stacked to dry, and a washer going through the spin cycle.

A woman in a paisley jumpsuit bobbed her head while singing along with the music as she stood at the sink. She rinsed a plate, set it with the others to dry, and stripped off one rubber glove to pick up a bottle of Coke and take a long drink. That's when she noticed him standing in the middle of the yellow tiled floor. "I didn't hear you come in. Did you put your bike away?"

Her head tilted to the side as she waited for an answer, Clint swore she looked just like his mother. She had the same brown hair and blue eyes he saw when he looked in the mirror. He looked down at himself, and instead of his Hawkeye suit, he wore a t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. Deciding to play along until he figured out what was happening, he took a step closer. "In the garage."

She smiled and took off the other rubber glove, setting both next to the sink. "Ready for a snack? Barney's off doing who knows what with his friends, so it's just us today."

Clint sat down at the kitchen table, yellow to match the tiles and cabinets, watching her with suspicion as she moved from the pantry to the counter to the refrigerator. She set a glass of milk and a plate of Oreos in front of him, and returned to the kitchen.

His picked up a cookie, dunked it in the milk and took a bite as the woman brought a second plate and glass, taking the seat next to him. She kept looking at him from the corner of her eye, and he watched her back.

She passed him a napkin and used another to wipe her mouth. Laying the napkin aside, she picked up another cookie. "Something wrong, Clint? You've hardly said a word."

"I'm fine." They finished their snack in silence, Clint watching her face for a sign, something that would tell him who she really was and who was behind this elaborate charade. She finished her cookies, drank down the milk and carried the dishes to the sink.

The air around his mother's form rippled, setting off his internal alarms. He pushed back from the table, the chair falling over with a crash. She turned toward him, and faster than she could move, Clint grabbed a knife from the counter, grabbed her around the throat, and held it to her neck.

"Who are you?" he growled into her ear.

The woman and the knife vanished, leaving Clint holding air. He turned in a circle, prepared for an attack from any direction. Again, the world around him rippled, and another image formed in front of him, close enough to touch, yet she showed no fear. She looked familiar too. Long hair, black dress, red jacket, black boots and knee socks. Wanda Maximoff. He snickered to himself. Every Avenger needed a nickname. _Gonna go with Scarlet Witch_. "Get out of my head!"

She dropped her eyes apologetically. "Forgive me. The doctors cannot say if you will live, and I wanted to ease your pain. Perhaps grant you one last wish, just in case."

He thought over her explanation looking for traps. "Why?"

Those dark eyes that had seen more heartache than any one person should at such a young age locked with his. "You were so kind to my brother and I, even after we tried to destroy you. I wanted to give you something that was impossible for you to give yourself: to say good-bye to, and to dance with your mother one last time."

What Wanda said made a weird kind of sense. "How does it work again?"

Her right hand moved, a swirl of mist forming at the fingertips. "Think of Edith as she was the last time you saw her."

Wanda flicked the crimson mist in Clint's direction. Her form twisted and swirled, morphing into his mother, looking the same as she did on the morning of the accident: yellow hip-hugger bellbottoms, matching flowered top, and white heels.

As a boy, his mother had seemed like a giant, but then, he was only six when she died. Now they were nearly equal in height. She stopped in front of him, one hand reaching out to brush the hair from his forehead. All these years later and that one lock still wouldn't stay in place no matter how much gel he used.

"Hello, Clint. It's good to see you again."

Her touch reminded him of those nights when she would press a kiss to his forehead after a bedtime story. His favorite was _Horton Hears a Who_! to which she added spaceships, aliens, and all the sound effects. "I miss you, Mom."

"I miss you too." She took his hand, gripping it tight. Her smile dimmed, and it seemed that she was listening to something beyond his hearing. "What should we dance to, sweetie?"

"You pick."

She tilted her head in thought, as if seeking advice from above. And maybe she was, but Clint didn't ask. " _You and Me Against the World_?"

They both looked up when Helen Reddy's soulful voice began singing, seeming to come from everywhere at once. Holding her in the traditional slow dance pose, Clint began swaying and moving slowly around the kitchen floor.

 _You and me against the world,  
Sometimes it feels like you and me against the world,  
When all the others turn their backs and walk away,  
You can count on me to stay._

 _Remember when the circus came to town  
And you were frightened by the clown,  
Wasn't it nice to be around someone that you knew,  
Someone who was big and strong and looking out for_

 _You and me against the world,  
Sometimes it feels like you and me against the world  
And for all the times we've cried I always felt that  
God was on our side._

Clint couldn't help it. The verse about the clown made him chuckle. He'd never been afraid of much, and certainly not the clowns at Carson's, and he felt the need to explain. "Barney and I ran away from the orphanage…"

His mother leaned back to look into his eyes. "And joined the circus. I've been watching, sweetie."

"Then you know about Laura and your grandchildren." She nodded, but didn't say another word until the song was over. Reluctant to let their time together end, Clint kept hold of his mother's hand. "One more?"

"Why not?" Her smile softened what could've been harsh words coming from someone else. "A fast one."

Clint thought for a moment then upbeat music came from all around them. He grabbed his mother's hand and started dancing and singing.

 _Calling out around the world,  
Are you ready for a brand new beat?  
Summer's here and the time is right  
For dancing in the street.  
They're dancing in Chicago,  
Down in New Orleans,  
In New York City._

 _All we need is music, sweet music.  
There'll be music everywhere.  
There'll be swinging and swaying and records playing,  
Dancing in the street.  
Oh, it doesn't matter what you wear,  
Just as long as you are there.  
So come on, every guy, grab a girl.  
Everywhere around the world  
They'll be dancing.  
They're dancing in the street._

Taking his mother's hand, he spun her around, into his arms, and out again. Holding the opposite hands, they brought their arms behind their necks, and let go, moving in opposite directions until they were holding hands again. Clint swooped in and grabbed her around the waist, doing three quick turns that made her head spin. She laughed out loud at the sudden movement, and he did too.

The song ended, and they hugged each other, laughing and panting from the exertion. The laughter tapered off, and Edith pushed him back so she could see his face. Again, she touched his cheek. "You've grown into such a handsome man, my son, filled with love and kindness and compassion. I couldn't have asked for more." She looked over her shoulder and back. "I have to go, and so do you."

Clint wanted to protest, to keep her with him just a little longer, knowing it wasn't possible. He hugged her tight. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, sweetie."

His mother's form slowly dissipated until he was left standing in the middle of the kitchen floor all alone. He reached out a hand. "Good-bye, Mom."

~~O~~

"Okay, that's got it. Close him up." The surgeon stepped back while his assistant closed Hawkeye's incision. It was small, but had bled quite a bit. Luckily, he'd only needed a single pint of blood transfused.

Standing at the head of the table, dressed all in green like the medical personnel, Wanda held her hands on either side of Hawkeye's head keeping him in an anesthetized state for the surgery. When it had come around to his turn, the surgeon had wanted to postpone due to running out of anesthetic, so she stepped in.

The surgeon's assistant covered the incision and nodded. Wanda slowly brought Hawkeye to consciousness. He blinked and groaned, his eyes scanning the room. Wanda came around in front of him, pulling the mask off so he could see her. "How are you feeling?"

He took a deep breath, groaning at the pain. "Like I got _shot_. Wha' the fuh happ'n?"

"You passed out from blood loss, and had to have emergency surgery." She glanced up and nodded.

"Why're _you_ here? Not a doctor, are ya?" He shifted, groaning when the incision twinged.

Wanda smiled and shrugged. "The surgeon ran out of anesthetic, so I used my psionics to inhibit the pain receptors in your brain, and to keep you unconscious."

"Ms. Maximoff?"

Again, she nodded to the man at the door, then laid a hand on Hawkeye's chest. "I'm needed for another surgery. Will you be alright?"

"Yeah."

She started away, and he caught her hand. He didn't release her immediately, and she could see he had more to say. "You want to know why I gave you the vision of your mother." She squeezed his hand and he returned it. "Because you wanted it, Hawkeye."

He let her go, and she turned at the door when he called out, " _Clint_ is who I am. _Hawkeye_ is what I do. Don't confuse the two."

Wanda inclined her head. "Of course… Clint."

"By the way, Mom never called _anyone_ 'sweetie'." Rather than being angry that she'd tricked him, Clint nodded once, adding a small smile. "Thanks, Wanda."

She returned the smile, a little shyly, and was gone.

~~O~~

Clint closed his eyes, and was soon asleep, not waking until he felt the helicarrier touchdown. He rolled off the cot he'd been transferred to, and got to his feet, holding onto his side. At some point he didn't remember, he'd been given a set of scrubs and slippers to wear. Shuffling out into the hall, he carefully made his way to the upper deck. All of his belongings were in the quinjet they'd used during the battle with Ultron and his army of murder bots, but he didn't see it on deck. He'd also lost his bow and quiver, the new ones Laura and the kids had given him for his birthday.

He scanned the deck until he found Natasha supervising the loading of ambulatory evacuees into a quinjet, and carefully made his way I her direction. "Hey."

"You shouldn't be out of bed, Clint." She grabbed his arm, and he was helpless to resist as she forced him to sit on a crate.

"What's the word on the team? Everyone make it?"

She nodded and looked away. "Stark, Rogers, Vision, Rhodey, Falcon and Thor are helping in the search for survivors, and the dead. Fury and Hill are meeting with the Council, who are talking us up in a major way to the news outlets. Twitter's all a flutter, by the way. Instagram and Tumblr have crashed _twice_."

Clint didn't miss how his friend had left one name off the list. "What about Banner?"

If Natasha had been any other woman, her eyes would've teared up. "We don't know. Somehow, he got aboard the quinjet while it was in stealth mode. I called to tell him how to turn it off so we could track him, but…"

He wrapped an arm around Natasha and pulled her close. She clung to him for a moment then stepped back. "I have to get back to work. Cho will be here soon. You'll be fixed up in no time."

Keeping hold of her hand, Clint waited for her to look at him. "We'll find him. Promise."

"Yes, we will. Anything less is unacceptable."

Clint watched his best friend walk away with her head held high, always the professional. He didn't know how, but he'd find a way to keep his promise. To do that, he needed help. Holding his hand against his side, he slowly made his way to the bridge.

 **The End**

 _Dr. Seuss' Horton Hears a Who!_ is a 2008 American computer-animated adventure comedy film based on the Dr. Seuss' book of the same name.

 _You and Me Against the World_ is a song written by Kenny Ascher and Paul Williams, recorded by Helen Reddy for her 1974 album _Love Song for Jeffrey_.

 _Dancing in the Street_ is a 1964 song first recorded by Martha and the Vandellas. It is one of Motown's signature songs, and the group's premier signature song.


End file.
